


Slippery When Wet

by Rozel



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozel/pseuds/Rozel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The partners get more than they bargained for when helping out Doyle's niece</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slippery When Wet

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my Beta Anna, whose guidance is so important to me.
> 
> I don't own these two, so thanks to BC and Mark One for bringing them to life. I write for pleasure and make no money from my efforts. I hope you enjoy the story. I would enjoy your comments please.
> 
> This story was written for the PROSfanfiction March Challenge, entitled "Get 'Em Wet". The prompts were Doyle; Wet; Any other character Wet

SLIPPERY WHEN WET  
(Or Two Bodies, One Doyle!)

“Oh go on Ray, it’d be great as well as helping me out!”

Karen was annoyed with her uncle. Her blue-green eyes flashed, and she tossed her head, making her dark shiny hair swing. Her frown did little to detract from her usual sunny look. Usually she could wind him round her little finger, but this time he was digging his heels in. Given that they were more like brother and sister, she thought he’d have been more than happy to help her out of her predicament.

Karen Anderson was the daughter of Ray Doyle’s much older sister, Kath. The big age gap between those two meant there were only a few years between Ray and Karen. When she moved to London to take a college course, Ray promised Kath he’d keep an eye out for her. Once a week or so, they’d meet for a drink or a meal and catch up. However what had started out as a social drink was not going according to Karen’s plan!

“Karen love, I’m not sure I can help you out! Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing from one day to the next, let alone take time out to help you with your course! You say you’re not sure for how long, or exactly what you want me to do.” 

Karen interrupted him excitedly.

“Yes! Yes! I do know what I want you to do, just not quite how it’s going to pan out. Please Ray?” She outlined her plan and as he listened his eyes widened with disbelief.

He was surprised and secretly amused by her request. Before he had time to say anything more, Bodie wandered over with a tray of drinks, and sat down.

He’d caught the first part of the conversation before going to the bar. Now, he nudged Doyle in the ribs.  
“Can’t see your problem mate,” he said airily. “We’ve loads of time owing; we’re up to full strength at work. Cowley wouldn’t mind. We could take Friday off and have a long weekend!”

Doyle shot his partner a murderous glance. Karen beamed happily at them both.

“Well that’s it then,” she replied. “Friday’ll be fine. I’ll see both of you at nine. Early start!” She gathered up her bag and blowing a kiss towards both men she left the pub.

Doyle considered the expression on Bodie’s face at the ‘both of you’ comment to be worth whatever Karen had planned for them!

888

“I’m not getting involved in something like that, mate!” Bodie was adamant, his face devoid of the usual boyish grin across his features. Doyle stared hard at his friend.

“You arranged it with Cowley for the time off. Karen is expecting both of us, so you will at least turn up.” 

Bodie set his jaw. Doyle held his gaze for a moment. A deep sigh escaped his lips. He pushed open the doors to the warehouse.

“OK, I’ll go first then.”

888

The old shed had been turned into a studio, full of people busily setting up a photo shoot. A three sided enclosure had been fashioned from several large plastic sheets forming an open shelter. It sat in what could only be described as a huge upturned tray. Above the makeshift shelter two young men manhandled hoses and industrial size shower heads onto a platform. The hoses dripped constantly, and the men shouted at others on the floor to check taps and the heating system. Another assistant checked the lights and cameras which had been set up on small platforms, in an effort to keep them dry. 

Several people were busying themselves checking photographic equipment, film stock and video machines. Karen was shouting instructions to two female students. The scene was a hive of activity. While Bodie threw himself into a chair behind the cameras, Ray Doyle was feeling very vulnerable.

“Hey Ray.” Karen called across to Doyle, “Are you ready for this?” 

Doyle smiled weakly and turned to his friend.

“What the fuck have you got me into?” 

Bodie, could barely hold himself together for giggling, and was way past any coherent comment.

“Sue, could we get Ray ready please? Now folks,” Karen yelled above the noise of the studio to those who were involved in the proceedings. “This is the final part of my course, and I just want to thank all of you for helping me out. The shoot is the last one and will finish off my portfolio. You all know the brief, and in addition this last module states no professional models can be used. Black and white film only. Minimal colour effects. If this works, I just might pass my course! Keep your fingers crossed it all comes together.”

There was cheering and whistling at this. “Go Karen.” “You got it girl.” “Can’t fail babe.”

Sue beckoned to Doyle to follow her to the shelter. She was firing off instructions to him as they walked. Doyle kept nodding. Bodie, still helpless with laughter sat behind Karen’s camera set up. Doyle, catching sight of him, raised two fingers at his best mate, in an age old gesture.

The noise in the studio lessened. The lighting was perfect; all that remained was for the ‘model’ to do his stuff!  
Ray Doyle had done many things in his young life. He’d killed people for Queen and country. He’d fought terrorists and criminals, been shot at, drugged and taken hostage, all in the line of duty. He had loved his way through a healthy proportion of the female population of London and met his best mate through work. He had never posed before a camera!

He stood inside the enclosure, looking ill at ease and self conscious. Karen looked him up and down, turning her head this way and that. She knew the effect she wanted. In her mind’s eye she could see the finished shots.

Taking a deep breath, she issued her instructions.

“Ray, all you have to do is face me, and listen to what I say and do it. OK?” Jon. Water please.” 

With that, the hoses began to spray water down on to Doyle’s head. The initial shock took his breath away, and he felt himself begin to panic. 

Karen began to shout directions at him.

Doyle’s clothes were soon soaked as the water streamed over him. His tee shirt clung to his torso, making him feel awkward and clumsy. His trainers were squelchy and slimy. He looked and felt miserable. It was clear to Karen that he couldn’t produce the effect she needed under such conditions.

“Jon, switch the water off! Ray, grab a towel and some coffee.” She walked over to Sue. “That was dreadful! I thought the water would produce a much more electric effect. Sort of silvery and sparky. I wanted this shoot to be different! When they said to use water I could see it straight away. Bob is shooting fireman out at Hackney for his project; Jo is down at Tilbury working with the lightermen. I just wanted to get away from the norm.” She stared into the distance. “Ray’s really uncomfortable . . .”

She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. 

“I’ve got an idea,” she announced to Sue. Briefly she outlined the changes to the shooting schedule to her friend. “And I reckon we can rack up the ante if we add this . . .” 

She looked across at Bodie, sprawled in the chair behind her cameras. She walked across to him and whispered in his ear.

Sue glanced over at them. Bodie was shaking his head, making it clear he was not in agreement with her words. Sue heard their raised voices.

“It’ll cost you,” he said. He pulled her close to him and whispered something in her ear.

Karen looked at him steadily. “OK. Whatever you say Bodie.”

Bodie looked aghast; it was a brave woman who called his bluff. 

Doyle was sitting apart from the rest sipping a coffee. Karen came up to him.

“Come on then. I’ve had a rethink. You need to forget about everyone here, and just focus on me. You can do this Ray, and I need you to do it. So,” she took a deep breath, “this is what we’ll do . . .”

Five minutes later, Doyle returned to the shooting area. With an air of confidence he didn’t feel, he took his place in front of the backdrop.

The studio went quiet. Karen gazed at the reaction her ‘model’ was creating. Muffled comments reached her from the floor.

“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes!” “Dear Lord that’s good.” Even a quiet “Phwoar” from Sue.  
Doyle stood there bare-chested and bare footed. The top button of his jeans was undone, and Sue had tugged them lower over his hips. He looked ready for anything!

Karen glanced across at where Bodie had been sitting. He’d gone. She smiled to herself. Her plan was coming together. She called to the lad in charge of the hoses.

“Jon! Water!”

“Ray, look straight at me and smile. Good. Just keep looking at me. Turn to your left very slowly, yeah that’s good. Now to the right. Keep going. Look down. Now directly at me. Thumbs in your belt notches, hoik your jeans down at the front a bit. That’s good. Keep looking at me Ray.”

Doyle did as he was told. Thankfully Karen had ensured the showering was warm, and listening to her instructions, he forgot about all the other people present. The water cascaded down onto him, running down his face and through the hair on his chest. Small droplets clung to his eyelashes and ran down the side of his mouth. Some pooled in the bony gap by his collarbone. A few drops settled on the silver chain round his neck, while more ran down his arms. 

The effect was amazing. Diamond bright, the water caught the light as it trickled down his body, finding its own natural course to the floor. His hair darkened, and was quickly weighted down with water, straightening his curls. It rested on his shoulders. In one part of his mind, he reminded himself he needed a haircut! All the time he listened to Karen’s voice, talking him through the shoot. The ever present clicking of the cameras and the whirr of the video machines were just audible over the falling water.

Briefly the hoses were turned off, and people rushed onto the set. Sue handed Doyle more hot coffee and told him not to dry off! Two students carried a makeshift prop into the shooting area. Karen called out to her crew.

“Everyone ready again? OK. Ray behind you is a prop of a street lamp. Lean against it please, one leg bent, push your body forward.”  
Doyle, unsure what she meant, looked nonplussed. Then a deep voice from behind her gave him his cue!

“It’s yer rent boy pose sunshine.” Bodie was back, sprawled once again in the chair, but without the previous attack of the giggles. He seemed to be taking an interest in proceedings.

Doyle resumed his stance and the cameras began their incessant clicking once more.

By lunch time, a thoroughly damp Doyle was taking a break, and being given hot soup and a cheese roll by his ever thoughtful niece. Dressed in a warm towelling bathrobe, he began to feel slightly more human. Bodie had disappeared yet again. When he asked Karen where he was, she shook her head and told him she had no idea.

“Probably done a runner.” Doyle thought crossly, sipping the hot soup. Karen bounded over to him, and planted a kiss on top of his damp head. 

“Ray you have to see these,” she said pulling him to his feet. Together they walked over to a table, where the contact sheets lay.

Doyle was amazed by the results. Although not shy about his body, and according to Bodie, in certain situations indecently quick to remove his clothes, he didn’t recognise himself at first. He looked relaxed, happy and laughing in some. In others he managed to look moody and dangerous. In some pictures the water running over his body took on the appearance of small fizzing, spitting sparks. Doyle suddenly realised the talent his young niece had. 

Karen was ecstatic. 

“Ray these are brilliant. I’m so pleased you agreed to do it. I’ve got a couple more ideas. Are you up for it?” 

Her attitude was infectious and Doyle agreed without further thought.

“OK, Sue’ll go through things with you. You’ll love it. More water though. Are you OK with that?” She rushed off to set things up without waiting for a reply. 

888

By four in the afternoon, all was ready for the second shoot. Karen’s team agreed that Doyle had pulled something out of the bag, and the results of the morning’s shoot were bound to be accepted by her tutors.

Karen called her friends together and they discussed the final section of the shoot.

“Ray, we’re ready for you now. We should finish by this evening.” 

Doyle groaned inwardly. He was feeling cold and uncomfortable, and the thought of climbing back into his damp jeans was less than appealing.

“OK love, but could we call it a day after this? I’m gonna catch my death of cold otherwise!”

He missed Karen’s reply, as once more the hoses started to rain down warm water on his body. 

“Ray, there’s a bench on the floor. Can you sit facing away from me, with your arms away from your body? I want the expanse of your back on show for that final shot. OK?”

Doyle sat down, the rivulets of water gently running down his body. There was a movement to his side and turning, he nearly fell off the bench.  
Bodie sat down silently next to him, a towel draped across his shoulders. He looked across at Doyle, his expression veering between absolute defiance and petrified beyond belief. 

“Don’t. Say. A. Word.”

Karen called out from the darkness.

“Bodie, same pose as Ray please, and you can take the towel off now.”

Bodie slipped the towel off his wide shoulders and copied Doyle’s pose. The water raining down from above, drenched his hair and ran down the pale expanse of his broad back. His muscles tensed with the unexpected sensation, showing them in sharp definition in the studio lighting. His dark hair appeared black under the water and much longer than usual. He shook some water from his long lashes, and turned to face Doyle.

“Karen called my bluff,” he offered by way of explanation. “She agreed to spend a weekend playing war games with me if I did this.” 

Doyle chortled.

“Oh mate, she saw you comin’. She’s a Queen’s Scout y’know. Up for anything”

Bodie visibly brightened at that comment!

Both men were wet through by now, their bodies glistening in the lights. The liquid silver effect of the water picked out hard muscle and tendon. Hair, lengthened and darkened with damp, gave them a wilder, more abandoned look, certainly one that their colleagues would not have recognised. Karen prepared for her final shots of the day.  
“OK you two, can you both manage a cheeky expression, looking over your shoulder, directly at me? Ray look to your right, Bodie to your left.”

The camera rolled through the film with hardly a pause. Karen’s quiet direction and the experience of her crew ensured the shoot went without problems. Both men had relaxed enough and fully entered into the swing of things, relishing their new role. 

“OK, now straddle the bench and face each other. That’s right. Lean in. Good. Keep facing me. Now turn back and face me again. Ray, that’s a great smile. Bodie, lift those elegant brows please! God, these are going to be brilliant pics guys. Jon, a little more water please.

Jon began spraying Bodie and Doyle again, as Karen shot her last roll of film.

Finally she was satisfied with the results and a very wet Bodie and Doyle were allowed to shower, dry off and get dressed.

They left the warehouse without seeing Karen again. She was going through sheets of contact prints, reviewing her work, carefully choosing some shots and discarding others.

888 PART TWO

Some weeks later George Cowley was playing host to his sister on one of her shopping trips to the capital. Those days were sacrosanct and Cowley made sure his calendar was free. It was a brave man indeed who caused him to miss it. It was a chance for them to catch up and for Cowley to enjoy the family life he had chosen to forfeit.

After an excellent lunch at the Savoy Hotel, Cowley and Joan wandered down The Strand towards Trafalgar Square. 

“George, I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you,” his sister linked arms with him. “Megan has been chosen to display at the Hornsey Art College Summer Exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery. I thought we could go and see her work and that of some of the other students’. She’s there today and I sort of promised you’d drop by.”

Cowley gazed at his sister.

“Of course I want to see her, Joan. I’ve followed her progress in your letters, and hoped I’d get the opportunity to see her work. I’m thrilled she’s been given this chance.”

He guided his sister through the imposing doors of the gallery. It was heaving with people all visiting for different reasons. Some were queuing to gain entry to the featured exhibitions; others were taking in the general showrooms. There was a cacophony of different languages as the many tourists vied for attention from the staff. George and Joan followed the signs for the art college, and soon found themselves in a long gallery, along with students and their proud family and friends, as well as the general public and some journalists. Everyone wanted to know who was successful and would manage to carve a career for themselves in the difficult world of art and media. 

Megan was standing by her artwork with a huge smile on her face. Her series of stylised depictions of three women, had been awarded a first in its class, and had been sold almost immediately. She was bubbling with joy and waved frantically at her mother and uncle. 

Cowley was delighted for his niece and thrilled to learn she had been commissioned to produce another series.

While the two ladies exchanged hugs and chatted about the news, Cowley wandered off for a look at other work. He noticed the behaviour of the crowd at the far end of the gallery. They were visibly affected by another series of pictures. Six huge photographs took up the space at the far end of the room. As he drew nearer he was aware of an undercurrent of excitement from the crowd. He assumed, quite rightly as it turned out, that these exhibits had been awarded some sort of prize. He read the publicity material alongside the first photograph; ‘RainMen - a series of photographs by Karen Anderson’. It continued by explaining the module guidelines and included a brief history of Karen herself. Alongside the artist information was a certificate stating that a First With Distinction had been awarded to Karen for her final module.

Moving slowly with the crowd, he came to the first picture, and suddenly began to doubt his own eyes. 

A full 6’ by 4’ it showed Ray Doyle, standing full on to the camera. He was dripping wet, his hair darker and straighter, weighted down with water. The camera had caught the streaming liquid in a certain light which made it appear silvery and sparkling, almost as if it was alive. It ran down Doyle’s face, through the hair on his bare chest and down his belly, where it disappeared into the top of the unbuttoned jeans, riding low on his hips. Doyle’s expression was brooding and sullen. An air of menace almost leapt out from the picture.

Cowley was astounded. Before he could fashion a thought, he was gently pushed along by the crowd to the next picture. It was of Doyle again, in a very similar pose to the first, but the whole atmosphere of the photo had changed. Doyle was shown smiling, eyes twinkling, thumbs carelessly looped into his belt notches, forcing the jeans even lower. The nonchantly sexual pose, coupled with Doyle’s expression of genuine amusement, made him look positively wanton. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Cowley could see Joan and Megan pushing their way through the crowd towards him. He gestured towards the two photos, only to see Joan pointing towards the next photo in the series. Cowley slowly turned towards the image, knowing that it would certainly challenge his opinion on his young employee.

The image showed Doyle, still half clothed, leaning against a lamppost, hips canted forward, knee bent and one bare foot resting on the base of the post. Again the water showered down on him, small rivulets running down his body His head was thrown back and his eyes were closed. The expression on his face was that of a man embracing the sensual feel of the water as it caressed his naked skin. 

This time, there was another person in the shot. On a bench sat a well built, elegant looking man. He was dressed in an expensive dinner suit, with the shirt undone to his waist, and an untied bowtie resting round his neck. As with Doyle he was sitting in a shower of water. The droplets clung to his long sooty lashes, and ran down his firm jaw line. The shirt, almost transparent in the water, clung to his powerful chest, as smooth as Doyle was hirsute. He seemed to be looking at someone out of shot, and had an arm extended towards them. He was holding a single rose, contrasting starkly with the black and white film, as it has had been hand coloured a deep red. Cowley recognised Bodie, and thanked his stars he had at least, remained clothed!  
The fourth photograph featured Bodie. It was a half body shot of him, naked to the waist. One arm lay across his chest, with his hand resting on the opposite shoulder. His torso was spattered with droplets of water, resting on the pale expanse of his skin. The lighting for the shot had caught the hint of his five ‘o clock shadow, which coupled with his boyish grin hinted at the promise of things to come.

Joan had caught up with her brother and noted his dazed expression as he viewed the photographs. Knowing both Bodie and Doyle, and liking them immensely, she could only hide her merriment from her older brother. She knew instinctively that a few words from her may well save the two young men from a severe reprimand later on.

“George, these are really very good you know, although a bit racy. I presume they did these during their time off,” she added as a delicate reminder!

Megan was studying the photographs with a critical eye.

“They are good,” she murmured. “Karen got her uncle, him with the curly hair, to pose,” added Megan. “Do you know the guys in the photos Uncle?”

“Eh? Yes I do sweetheart. They work for me . . . and yes Joan, they probably did undertake this role during some recent time off. No reason why they shouldn’t . . . they do have lives outside of work,” he added gruffly. 

Joan gave her brother a questioning look. Cowley, reading her mind immediately, sighed as he spoke.

“It’s alright dear. They’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. They’ll hear nothing further from me. Goodness knows, the photographer shows talent and originality even if her subject matter is questionable! Doyle’s niece eh? Well he came from an artistic background as well. It obviously runs in the family”

They continued to viewing the photographs.

Number five showed Bodie and Doyle, backs towards the camera. Doyle had his arms linked across the top of his head. Bodie stood, hands on his hips. The water cascaded down Doyle’s torso, dipping and running across the tensed muscles of his back and shoulders, throwing them into sharp relief. Bodie stood, flexing powerful biceps and forearms highlighted by the rivulets of silvery water coursing down drawing the viewer’s eye towards the planes made by bone structure and sinew.

The final picture in the series was less concerned with the lighting and effects of the water, although both played a part in the image. The partners sat opposite each other, faces turned towards the camera. The water, lightly showering the men, lent the picture a softer, less aggressive tone. On his upper arm, Doyle sported a small devil with a happy-go-lucky expression. The delicate pinks and reds of the body paint, contrasted beautifully with the black and white film stock. Bodie’s arm was similarly adorned, but coloured in shades of green. Both men were laughing, their youthfulness and sense of fun at their situation clearly evident. It was an endearing image and a fitting end to the series.

THE END


End file.
